Aggression
by Elysians
Summary: Jean, Scott, Peter, and Logan discover an unusually young mutant within an illegal underground fight ring. Like the rest of the XMen, there are more to her gifts than meets the eye...
1. Author Disclaimer, srsly

**Disclaimer:**

All characters recognizable belong to **Marvel**.

All characters unrecognizable belong to me, and are for sale if **Marvel** is interested.

This is the first fanfic I've ever written. I love feedback but I won't kid you---generally I hate fanfic and I am forever locked in bitter neverending battles with my own internal Mary Sues, who plead to be let out onto paper but I loathe too much to usually oblige.

I would be utterly mortified if anyone I know in RL ever discovered that I published an X-Men fanfic here. I am rather mortified myself.


	2. Fight Club

"'It'll be cool,' he said!" Jean sulked, comically imitating Scott's voice. "'An underground fight ring, just like in _Fight Club_. A bunch of drunk idiots flopping around trying to throw punches. How hard could it be?'" She turned to Peter, who was leaning against their cell wall.

"So, how hard _could_ it be, Colossus?" she smirked.

Peter shrugged. "Well, we're locked up. No powers. No help. No hope. I'd say at this point we're right on schedule for a standard mission? And if that's the case, then I'd also say that any minute now it's bound to get worse."

Jean snorted at Peter's straight-faced joke. Leave it to her and Peter to screw up what should have been exceedingly simple. Cloud the minds of the guards, sneak around the back rooms of this stupid, illegal streetfighting organization while Scott and Logan snooped around the actual ring, unearth a little evidence of its "suspected" ties to Weapon X, and bam…back home with a good book. They hadn't really counted on the extra security measures they'd encountered in the belly of the club.

_Really,_ Jean thought to herself, _what kind of scum-of-the-earth **underground** organization can afford such advanced security technology_?

In the end, it had been a simple weight detection system in the floor that had busted them and brought the guards running---nothing Peter and Jean couldn't have easily handled, except the guards happened to have itchy trigger fingers, and deadly aim with fast-acting tranquilizers.

_I was more focused on the guards than the technological security_, Jean thought. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

If things couldn't have gotten any worse, upon awakening in a bland tiled cell at the end of a sterile-looking corridor, Jean and Peter immediately discovered something was missing---their powers.

Jean had concentrated for a full twenty minutes, even to the point of breaking a sweat, but it was no use---her mental ability to call Scott and Logan, or even the Professor, had been thoroughly revoked.

"An obedience serum," the girl in a cell across the corridor had told them. She appeared to be about seventeen, gangly and awkward, with greasy, stick-straight hair and bulging amber eyes. "They tranq you right off so that they can administer an obedience serum, and then in your thoroughly inebriated state, they order you not to use your abilities. Like a truth serum, you know? And after that first shot of it…they can just order you to take as many more 'boosters' of it as you need to keep you under control." She giggled madly and unexpectedly.

"Slaves," Jean said bitterly.

She noticed another being in the cell across the corridor with the teen---a small being, who couldn't possibly have been older than twelve years. The child simply lay curled and unmoving on a cell cot, facing the wall.

_I would have figured her for dead_, Jean thought, eyeing the child.

"Hey," she addressed the chortling teen girl. "Your friend. What's the matter with her?"

"Most of us, we used for parlor tricks," the girl replied, "Like monkeys in a sideshow, you know? The kind only the lowest of the low pay to see." Her face darkened. "But not all of us…" she gently gestured with her head to the child on the cot, who still had not stirred. "We ain't all used for that."

"Then for what do they use _her_?" Peter asked slowly, and a heavy fear suddenly stabbed at Jean's gut.

"I…I don't know," the girl replied, dropping her eyes. Jean may not have been able to hear her thoughts at the moment, but she could still tell when someone was lying. The girl added quickly, "She don't talk about it. But…"

Here she trailed off.

"But…._what_?" Jean asked in spite of herself.

The girl merely shook her head, with a nervous glance backwards at the figure on the cot.

Her frustration mounting, Jean tried to concentrate. She tried to touch the young child's mind. She tried to reach across the corridor mentally. No success. Jean felt like a deaf woman trying to listen to what she could not hear. It was exhausting, impossible…

At that moment the girl on the cot turned her head and locked eyes with Jean. The child's expression was stoic, unreadable. But her eyes were the sharpest grey Jean had ever seen, and cold as death.


	3. Animals

"Explain to me what we're doing here again!" Scott shouted above the din. He and Wolverine were crowded in a dank, dim chamber beneath a warehouse. Steel barrels of rocks were oddly stationed here and there, and abandoned tires were piled in the corners. The throng was rough: thick, hairy bikers and red-eyed gangsters hopped up on all kinds of drugs, kids with the wildest hairstyles and piercings Scott had ever seen. Money was exchanging hands in all corners, and everyone was screaming at the ring, a pit in the center of the room resembling a miniscule arena, in which the largest and maddest were set against each other in a ruthless cage fight.

"It ain't pretty, bub," Wolverine's grin was decidedly sly. "But I gotta say, it's my kinda party!" He roughly jostled a sweaty spectator aside to get a better look at the ring.

On the opposite side was a short platform stretching unobtrusively over a portion of the pit. On it stood a heavy, sour-faced man in a white suit, flanked by several menacing-looking bodyguards.

"That's him, ain't it?" Wolverine gestured to the man. "Solomon Teake, the godfather himself?" He smirked at his own joke, but Scott remained passive, studying the man across the ring.

"You're right," Scott answered. "But this place is packed. We'll have to get closer…"

A microphone hung from the ceiling near Teake, but all eyes were on the action below. An agile-looking woman with a twisted tattoo running down her neck and right shoulder and her hair braided into a long, dark whip running down her back was in the ring. At the moment she was delivering a well-placed kick to the chest of a drunken man in a flannel shirt while another grisly-looking man in a leather vest looked on, swinging a chain.

"NO-GOOD MUTIE SCUM!" Someone screamed nearby.

"RIP 'ER A GOOD ONE!"

"BIG MONEY, BIG MONAAAY!"

"GET 'EM! GET 'EM!"

The noise was deafening, and seemed to rise with every spike of action in the ring. Voices peaked when the woman snapped her hair in the face of one of the men, drawing blood. The jostling became rougher and people began jumping up and down in frustration and excitement. The man with the chain threw it violently at the woman's knees, momentarily knocking her off balance, and the audience seemed to swell with bloodlust.

"THATTA BOY! TAKE HER OUT!"

"KILL HER! KILL HER!"

"I ain't played the ponies in ages," Wolverine yelled into Scott's ear. "Didn't Chuckles say that anyone can have a go at fighting a dirty mutant here? Whaddya say?"

Scott recoiled in horror. "That's not funny, Logan."

"I could create a diversion," Wolverine began, cracking his knuckles. "Whatever you need while—"

"The answer is **NO**." Scott cut him off.

At that moment, the man in the pit swung the chain sharply, catching the woman in the head. She grabbed at her face and stumbled backwards, and the man pounced, finishing her with a shattering blow to the face, and a disgusted kick when she fell, before raising his hands to the joyous audience above.

An indistinguishable door set in the smooth walls of the ring opened and a pair of lanky figures in masks quickly dragged the injured woman and the unconscious man in flannel out of the ring. The victorious man in leather exited slowly after them, taking his time waving to the roaring crowd. Money was flying fast.

"What a dirty fight," Wolverine grumbled. "Two on one. I have half a mind to take down this entire operation **tonight**."

"Just take it easy, okay?" Scott said. "We're not here to start anything."

Wolverine gritted his teeth in irritation, and at that moment a low, guttural voice boomed over the sound system.

"ESTEEMED PATRONS" it thundered, "OF THIS FINE ESTABLISHMENT!" Wolverine and Scott both looked across the pit to the platform where a smiling Solomon Teake was theatrically addressing the frenzied crowd through the microphone hanging from the ceiling.

"We have saved the BEST FOR LAST! Our next and FINAL warrior is UNDEFEATED CHAMPION of this ring AND…THE MOST DANGEROUS MUTANT ON EARTH! In FACT, I am offering a grand CASH PRIZE of $1,000 and a PERSONALIZED TOUR of this facility to ANY MAN that can best my CHAMPION MUTANT!"

Scott felt Logan's elbow jab enthusiastically into his side, and the roar of the crowd mushroomed in appreciation.

* * *

Footsteps sounded down the corridor and Jean's concentration was broken as three armed guards approached the cell across from hers. The man in the lead was carrying chains.

"Guess what time it is?" The lead guard's voice was excited, teasing. "YOU." He addressed the teenaged girl. "No powers. Stand right over there. No talking. Don't move."

The girl did as she was told. The command of the drug in her bloodstream left her powerless to resist the orders, and she could only hang her head submissively as the guards unshielded the cell and entered. They snickered at her and turned to the figure on the cot, which had still not moved.

"You, on the bed." The guard said clearly, a hint of smile in his voice. "Don't move unless I tell you to. Stand up."

Without a word the child obeyed. She rose slowly and turned. Her visage was still empty and expressionless, unchanged and unchanging. Jean noticed yellow and green spots on the young girl's face, old bruises and small dried scabs. The only sign of real expression Jean could detect were the girl's unfriendly gray eyes, which were now fixed on the lead guard, and glaring daggers at him. Her clothes were similar to her teenaged cellmates—gray, ill-fitting, threadbare. She was barefoot, and had short, dishwater-blonde hair that was chopped unevenly with two stubby pigtails poking out from the sides. Jean could feel her pulse quickening in anxiety and recalled old _Cinderella_ movies she'd seen, where the young girl was always dressed in rags and mercilessly abused. That was fiction, though…fairy tales. Right?

"Little shit. Hold out your fucking hands. No more funny stuff, you ugly little mutie." The lead guard ordered the child in a frank and bored tone of voice.

The child dutifully held out her hands and Jean felt her heart drop…both the child's wrists were identically bandaged. A hundred scenarios of horrific torture flooded Jean's imagination, and visions of razors and hunting knives bubbled through her head.

The guard grinned a tight, twisted smile at the young girl. "Got somethin' special for you." Suddenly he didn't sound so bored anymore. He held out a syringe towards the young girl, and chuckled. "A booster!" The other two guards snickered softly.

"Take it," the lead guard said curtly, the laughter dropping abruptly from his voice. "Administer it to yourself, that's an order."

For a moment Jean thought the girl was somehow resisting. Her hands, hanging hopelessly at her sides, quivered uncertainly. Her steel eyes bored bulletholes into the guard's face. But no, she was taking the syringe, she was twisting around to reach her shoulder, she was plunging the needle into her own arm, she was looking the other way, a flicker of sorrow passing across her blank countenance.

"You filthy coward!" Jean shouted at the guards before she even realized what she was doing. "You're sick! SICK!"

The lead guard smirked, snatching the emptied syringe out of the girl's arm. "I suggest you shut the hell up, missy," he drawled, slapping the empty syringe lazily in his palm, and taking a few steps towards Jean and Peter's cell. As he spoke, the guards remaining in the cell began moving, expertly securing a leather collar into place around the child's neck.

The lead guard stopped in front of Jean and Peter's cell shield, gave Jean a long, pointed look up and down, and added, "Maybe come time for your booster, you just might discover how sick I can be."

"You don't TOUCH her," growled Peter lowly, and the guard smiled broadly.

"And just what," he said smoothly, "do you intend to do about it, Robocop? Hit her."

Without warning, Peter turned roughly and did just that. Jean felt her cheek split and staggered backwards, her hand to her face and her mind reeling. "PETER! What---stop it!"

"I am sorry, Jean!" Peter suddenly looked very much like a frightened little boy. He clutched his offending arm and took a tentative step back from the shield door. "I…I cannot help it! He---I had to---"

The lead guard laughed nastily, and guard in the other cell proceeded to shackle the child's hands, snapping manacles over her bandaged wrists. He fastened a steel ring to the center of the cuffs, and the other attending guard attached a chain from the collar to the ring. With this they led her out of the cell, reinforcing the shield behind them.

"Feel free to move again, freak." The lead guard mentioned to the teenager remaining in the cell. "And you two…" he turned to Jean and Peter, "Don't even think about escape. THAT'S an order."

With that, they turned to move down the corridor, cackling openly, the child collared, cuffed, and leashed between the three of them.


	4. The Pit Bull

"Like it or not," Wolverine gestured to the ring, which was being swept for the next match. "It may actually be a shot at getting a little more information."

"It's dangerous, and barbaric," Scott argued. "You may really hurt—"

"Ahh, I won't kill 'em." Wolverine snapped. He was already pulling off his jacket, shirt, and gloves. "I've just been dyin' for a little action like this. See, I'll even do it without claws. I've got to look human anyway, remember? This crowd wants to see their own kind win."

Scott grabbed Wolverine's arm. "I can't let you. This is not part of our mission—" He was cut off when Wolverine grabbed him back---roughly.

"Get the hell off my back." Wolverine snarled treacherously. "I've been in cage fights before, and this is kid's stuff. I know what I'm fucking doing." He stuffed his shirt, jacket and gloves into Scott's arms. "Hold this. 'Most dangerous mutant on earth,' my ass. Get the hell outta my way, Scott. I've got a title to reclaim." And he leapt into the pit.

The crowd burst into a deafening cheer as Wolverine's feet hit the sand in the ring.

"WE HAVE A CHALLENGER!" The voice over the microphone thundered and in the crowd hands shot into the air as money rapidly began circulating.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Roared the sound system, "WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, LET THE BATTLLLLLLLLE BEGIN!"

The door in the pit wall swung open.

"MAY I PRESENT TO YOU THE UNDEFEATED CHAMPION AND MOST DANGEROUS MUTANT IN THE WORLD! …THE **_PIT BULL_**!"

The roaring crowd surely grew louder but suddenly Wolverine couldn't hear them. The pit door had opened and he found himself face-to-face with sharpest grey eyes he had ever seen, and they were cold as death.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Jean could feel her face growing flushed with fury as she paced the cell, addressing the girl across the corridor. "Where are they taking her? What do they do with her?"

"She…she's one of the Boss man's pit fighters," the girl replied simply. "They set her against anyone that'll fight her, mostly it's humans wanna take a good whack at her, even though she's just a kid. But…don't worry, she's never lost. Wins the Boss man a lotta money, betting on her."

"_She_ never loses?" Peter repeated incredulously, scratching his head. "That little girl?"

"See?" The teen began to laugh madly again, in great, heaving gulps. "You'd bet on the other guy, see? Boss man'd win your money!"

"A collar!" Jean spat, "CHAINS! What the hell is wrong with them! What kind of ANIMALS--!"

"Oh…I think the collar and chains are just for show," the girl answered, fidgeting her spindly fingers. "That kid's been injected like the rest of us, so she has to do what they tell her to, don't she. But she's dangerous. I mean…her wrists, she…well, she did that to herself."

"What?"

"I s'pose fightin' sounds easy," the girl continued nervously, dropping her eyes. "But killin' ain't, least for some. Either way, that ducky ain't got a choice. Fight or kill, whatever they tell her to do. I figure some days it seems like there's no way outta this life." She snorted a deranged giggle, but did not look up.

Peter and Jean looked at each other.

"Jesus." Jean sat down.


	5. The Most Dangerous Mutant on Earth

If Wolverine had a moment to think, he might have laughed at the apparent joke that was being played on him. He might have raised a puzzled eyebrow up at Scott in the audience. He might have given his opponent a better looking-over….she sure did smell awful. Despite his pride, he may have even backed out of the match, if they'd let him…no way he was roughing up such a little kid—it just wasn't right.

But he didn't _have_ a moment to think. The child had stepped into the ring and immediately charged forward. Wolverine tightened in anticipation of her impact, though he imagined it couldn't have been very heavy---and found himself flying _forward_, directly towards the wall. In the blink of an eye, the Pit Bull had flipped acrobatically overhead, landed behind him, and sent him crashing into the wall with a kick that felt very much like a car hitting him.

The crowd exploded.

"BOOO!"

"SHOW THAT LITTLE FREAK WHAT'S WHAT!"

"THIS FUCKER'S RIGGED!"

"STEP IT UP, MAN!"

Wolverine whipped around without shaking off the shock of impact, in time to catch a blinding blow across his face.

"Ooo!" The audience reacted sympathetically, Scott included. Wolverine was still on his feet. He caught the child's arm as she swung it back towards his face, but the girl nevertheless struck him in the stomach with her other fist. Wolverine gasped instinctively as the wind was nearly knocked out of him. Simultaneously twisting her body within Wolverine's grasp, the Pit Bull whipped her leg under Wolverine, taking the X-man's feet out from beneath him. No sooner was he on the ground when he again felt himself whipped across the ring into another wall. This time, some of the cement crumbled and he left a dent.

"THE CHALLENGER IS DOWN!" Howled the loudspeakers. "BUT NOT OUT!"

Taking the announcement as a cue, spectators began chucking things at the Pit Bull, throwing rocks from the barrels, crumpled papers from their pockets, whatever else was available. The girl batted a few of the projectiles away, but could not anticipate the directions from which an object would be thrown, and buckled slightly as more and more solid objects struck her arms and legs. She glowered upward and bared her teeth angrily, but this only seemed to encourage the crowd to throw more.

Wolverine took the opportunity to hoist himself to his feet, fury flashing across his features.

"'Down,' am I?" he fumed under his breath, regaining his balance and taking a solid stance. He could feel the fury rising like a tidal wave within himself, and he fought it. He had to stay in control, this was supposed to be---well, it wasn't supposed to be anything like what was happening, that was for sure! The Pit Bull scowled glacially at him from across the ring, still distracted by rocks and trash falling upon her. For the first time Wolverine noticed the collar encircling her neck, the bandages on her wrists, the reddening of new welts, the yellow and purple spotting her face, the smell of her blood speckled somewhere in the ring. Something inside Wolverine snapped, and he could feel his rage overflowing all over the ring.

**SNIKT**! 

"Oh, crap." Scott muttered, as the spectators around him released exclamations of shock, annoyance, and dismay. A few began readjusted their projectile aim for Wolverine himself, who promptly shredded all of it in midair.

"HE'S A BLOODY MUTIE!"

"BOOO!"

"FUCKING TAKE 'EM BOTH DOWN!"

"**FIGHT ON**," The loudspeaker called out, the announcer's tone suddenly deadpan. "PIT BULL," it added, to which the girl looked up at Teake. "TO THE DEATH."

The crowd applauded in approval. Scott felt his face burning. _Nobody cares, _he thought bitterly, _Because either way it'll be a mutant life._ The child turned her head slowly back to Wolverine and the scowl etched on her face drained away, leaving a deadly, blank expression.

Scott began to feel the beginnings of real panic fluttering in his chest. He tore his gaze from the pit in time to see Teake cover the microphone and lean back to heatedly discuss something to a suit behind his bodyguards.

"Oh, crap," he repeated.

The Pit Bull had regained her composure. She caught a rock in midair and whipped it at Wolverine. His senses were razor-ready. He ducked the rock and leapt at the Pit Bull, who _ran up the wall _and then along the wall's curve as simply as if it had been a floor. The girl dropped back into the sand opposite Wolverine, who tucked and rolled up into a ready position on his knees. The audience roared wildly and money flew from hand to hand, faster than ever.

Wolverine leapt again, more nimbly this time. The Pit Bull threw herself on the ground and defiantly deflected Wolverine's grasp with her arms and legs. Wolverine still managed to grasp the child's shoulder when he landed, and they rolled clumsily into the wall where Wolverine's claws temporarily embedded themselves in the surface…trapping the child face-to-face with him, the Pit Bull's back pinned to the wall.

"Stop fucking around and kill me!" The girl hissed harshly into Wolverine's face, and using both hands, ripped Wolverine's right arm from the wall, twisting it painfully upside-down.

* * *

Overhead, Teake turned to leave, but Cyclops was already moving towards him. He forced himself to stop concentrating on the disaster unfolding below him and push through the screaming fury surrounding the pit. He wasn't so sure he even wanted to watch, really. It was sick. This was entirely Wolverine's fault. They'd been sent to identify the crime lords responsible for this vile organization…this whole escapade was supposed to be a _recon_ mission, not a barbaric free-for-all. 

"Maybe the professor will finally expel him," Scott muttered to himself and immediately regretted it. Expulsion or no, things had spun completely out of control and someone was probably going to die. Even worse, that someone was either be an X-Man or a little girl.

_A death under your leadership on a stupid, simple intel op, _Scott grimaced, _Way to fucking go, genius_.

Ahead, Solomon Teake pushed his way through a black door at the back of the room.

* * *

It was disgusting. It was perverted. It was…painful. Wolverine struggled to prevent his instincts from taking over completely. This kid could hit, and hit damned hard. In his state Wolverine had already forgotten himself several times, and the girl had a three claw-length gashes through her faded shirt and stretched across her shoulder blade to show for it. He hadn't meant to---it was instinct. 

_Where the hell is Scott, that idiot_---WHAM. A foot in his knee nearly bent it backwards. His healing abilities were definitely helping, but how much longer before they became starkly obvious to the audience…to the Pit Bull? He swung a hand and slammed her in the side. A sickening snapping beneath his fist, like twiggy tree branches. She staggered but caught his arm in her teeth…and bit _hard_.

_Fuck. SHIT. What the hell do I do. What the hell---_ A bolt of pain rocketed up his arm as the Pit Bull tore away some of his flesh with her teeth. Instinctively he brought his hand down on her head, above her eye. A brief thought of the soft spot on babies' skulls crossed his mind. He stifled a gag of disgust. The force of his blow sent the girl crashing to the ground, where she rolled onto her back and desperately threw her balled fists into Wolverine's loins as if they had been a volleyball.

"URK!" Wolverine crumpled over her. "Low blow, kid…"

The Pit Bull grasped Wolverine's fists with her bandaged hands. Using him as leverage, she spun herself around and flipped him over, landing atop his chest.

"Do it now!" She gasped at him, his wrists in her hands, his claws extended past her ears. "Kill me now! Do it!"

"I ain't trying to hurt you, kid! Are you fucking crazy, or---" Wolverine didn't even finish. In one deft move, Pit Bull twisted his arms around and ground his claws into his own throat.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her bitter gray eyes softening. Wolverine could see red bruises swelling her cheeks, hot blood spilling from her temple, gashes, bruises, pain etched everywhere. Then he could see nothing, for it all went black.


	6. My Champion Mutant

Cyclops had furtively followed Solomon Teake through the black door, careful to bump no one near the door when he opened it. The crowd's roar was ringing in his ears, and he desperately hoped Wolverine wouldn't screw things up any worse. He just needed a little time, he had to reach Teake and…and do what?

"What's your plan Scott, what's your plan…." Scott whispered to himself. Within the door was a dark, iron stairwell, and he could hear Teake's voice descending beneath him.

"…mutant on mutant doesn't make a damned difference, Jackson. What do you fucking care, either way you're paid---" a door slammed below and what dim light was emitted from it immediately diminished. The stairwell was almost completely pitch dark. Scott could hear the thunder of the crowd through the wall and tried to ignore it.

"Talk to him. I could talk to him. Maybe he's heard of the X-Men. Maybe he'll think it's bad press…" Scott continued whispering to himself as he quietly hurried down the hard iron steps. He stopped at the door, which had failed to shut completely, allowing a sliver of sickly fluorescent light into the stairwell. Scott could hear conversation from behind the door and paused to listen.

"And _I'm_ saying that if you want to keep your esteemed position at this organization you'll shut your fucking trap, you miserable sod! Or should we have a bonus round, with tonight's winner versus a very opinionated lawyer?"

"That tone is not necessary, Mr. Teake, I'm only expressing my concern for the future of this organization should you do something reckless to your champion mutant! Jeopardizing the establishment by pitting her against unknown--"

"MY **_CHAMPION_** MUTANT WILL BE WHOEVER WINS THE GODDAMN BLOODY MATCH, YOU UNDERSTAND!" Teake roared and Scott turned his face to see through the crack in the door.

Teake was standing in a narrow, nondescript chamber with a dimly lit corridor leading out its opposite side, in front of which a pair of guards stood rigidly, one holding chains. Teake himself was in the center, his two bodyguards standing stiffly behind him, and an annoyed-looking, groomed man in a rumpled suit was in front of him, clutching a leather binder and opening his mouth to protest.

"Not another word, Jackson, you son of a bitch, or I really will feed you to the mutants." Teake raised a finger threateningly, and Jackson shut his mouth. "If that goddamn pussycat out there is dumb enough to challenger her and actually win, then of course we'll be out ONE good pit fighter, but we'll have gained an even BETTER one! I want to keep using that 'undefeated, most dangerous mutant in the world' line, the crowd eats it up like sugarcake. I'm not planning on keeping that kid around much longer, you saw what she did to her wrists…I'm doing the little cunt a goddamned favor, letting her play it to the death like this. We want mutants we can CONTROL, and a suicidal dog is a bloody wild card."

"But---but the money we paid Weapon X—" Jackson gasped breathlessly. "The surgery and training---"

At that moment a wide door near the room's corner erupted open and two tall, skinny figures in black jumpsuits and masks entered, dragging the Pit Bull's limp figure. Her shirt was shredded and hung shapelessly from her twisted shoulders. Bloodspots dappled the floor and smudged beneath her dead weight. They dumped her on the floor in front of Teake, who stood straddling her head, grinning widely down at her face, which was swollen, bloody, and battered. Scott detected a gruesome, gurgling rasp as her chest heaved in a desperate attempt to catch her breath.

_Shit,_ Scott's thoughts raced. _Where's Logan? This can't mean---_

"Well, well, well." Teake boomed at the girl. He raised an eyebrow but did not smile. "I see we've managed to survive another game. I must admit I am a bit surprised. Good for you, my dear. Murray, get her out of my sight. Clean her up."

The guard holding chains nodded tersely, and approached the mangled figure on the floor. He kneeled and attached manacles and the chains to the child's collar, and unceremoniously dragged the battered girl out of the room, leaving nothing but a tired blood smear on the floor. Horror flooded Scott's senses at the sight, and his hand moved instinctively to the door handle, but the girl was already gone, and Teake was headed towards the pit door.

"How's the other one?"

"Turned him into a right shish-kabob, sir," a masked figure grunted as three of them struggled to haul Logan's blood-soaked body into the room. Scott remembered that despite his toned physique, Wolverine weighed nearly three hundred pounds with his adamantium skeleton. Or used to weigh…?

"Damn, he might have made a decent addition. Come on boys," he instructed as his bodyguards lagged a few feet behind him. "It's almost one. Time to close up this circus."

* * *

Like anyone else, Logan never remembered anything that happened to him when he was unconscious. He didn't feel his adamantium claws retract when he blacked out. He didn't feel the blood gush from his neck, or his tissue rebuilding itself over the next ten minutes, regenerating, healing his otherwise lethal wounds.

He also didn't see the masked figures enter the ring, or feel them clutch his wrists and drag him through the door, out of the pit, to an empty cement room. He didn't see Teake step over him and enter the ring to address the throng above.

He didn't see the masked face lean inquisitively over him, examining him. But as his consciousness slowly resurfaced, Logan did hear him.

* * *

Scott wasn't sure whether he should feel disappointed or relieved when he saw the figures drag Logan's body into the room as Teake stepped out of it. His claws were not out, and he didn't look badly injured. No claws and no injuries could only mean one thing….

"Take a look at this one!" One of the masked figures exclaimed, leaning heavily over Logan. "I think he might still be breathing!"

Teake was outside in the center of the ring, bellowing "Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for your patronage tonight!…"

Teake's bodyguards, however, were stationed just inside the room at the door, watching Teake outside. They both turned to stare at the masked figure, who looked up from Logan.

"He is!" The figure squeaked excitedly. "He survived the Pit Bull! He's--" At that moment, three adamantium claws abruptly shot through him, ending his sentence.


	7. Enough

"Oh, god!" Jean turned away from the sight advancing up the corridor, and shuddered on Peter's shoulder. Peter gawked, speechless.

The little girl that had been taken from the cell across the corridor no more than an hour earlier was being returned on her back, in far worse condition. Still in a chained collar and manacles, the guard dragged her along the floor by the chains on her hands and neck, while her head hung slackly backwards and her hair splayed upside down, some areas on her forehead matted and sticky with darkened blood. Her oversized shirt was positively shredded, and yellowing guaze could be seen loosely swathed around her right shoulder and across her mid-section.

"Stand aside," the guard said firmly to the teenager in the opposite cell. "No powers. No movement." The girl stepped to the wall, obeying.

The guard de-shielded the cell and dragged the lifeless child in. He dumped her unceremoniously near the cot on the far wall, and unhooked the chains and collar. He stood, coughed, spat on the floor at the teenager's feet, and left purposefully, reinforcing the shield on his way.

"Tell me that I can move," the teenager said to Peter.

"You can move," Peter responded helplessly.

"Thanks," the girl said, stepping away from the cell wall. "That's the thing about these dumb obedience serums, sometimes the guards forget to revoke their orders when they leave and then you have to ask…heh, or order someone else to---what?"

Jean had a pinched, incredulous look on her face.

"We're such idiots…" she breathed.

* * *

The remaining masked figures were easily stunned with two precise shots from Cyclops. The bodyguards had guns, but Cyclops was fast, and Wolverine was faster. One bodyguard lost a hand to Wolverine's adamantium temper, but a stunning optic blast had silenced him before his wails could be heard through the pit door.

Cyclops opened his mouth to berate Wolverine's suddenly all-too-merciless tactics, but at that moment Teake stepped back in from the noise of the pit spectators, who had begun to dissipate.

"What in the bloody hell--" Teake gaped at the dim room awash in sprawling bodies before him. "Hey!" he spotted Wolverine, who was beginning to advance dangerously, the snarl on his face completely devoid of empathy. "You---you---!"

"Judgment day, pal," Wolverine growled.

"No--!" Scott began to cry out, but the moment Wolverine leapt at Teake, Jean's voice came crashing clearly into Scott's mind like a out-of-control driver.

_Scott!_ Her voice was urgent, agitated. _We need to get out of here NOW_.

* * *

It was another fifteen minutes before Scott and Logan, navigated by Jean's mental direction, found their way to the cell corridor where they were imprisoned. Scott scanned the green, glowing force shield behind which Peter and Jean were standing.

"You've got to get us out of here!" Jean was screaming hysterically. "These people are madmen! Absolute barbarians! The guards--"

"Stand back," Scott interrupted uncertainly, touching his finger to his optic visor and aiming for the ceiling, the apparent source of the shield wall. In the cell, Jean and Peter immediately obeyed, but at that moment a blast sounded nearby and sparks sizzled out of the wall, where Wolverine had driven his claws directly into the shield controls. The force field instantly evaporated, and Wolverine quickly retracted his claws. A small wisp of smoke curled up from his hair, which seemed to stand more on end than usual.

Scott turned and stared at Wolverine. "Happy Fourth of July," Logan muttered.

"Jesus, Jean…what happened to your cheek?" Scott asked, but Jean didn't seem to even hear him.

"Oh god Scott, we've got to get them out!" she cried, rushing from her cell and gesturing wildly at the cell on the opposite side. "You wouldn't believe what they've done to that kid, we've got to get them out of here, before they--!"

"Oh, jeez," Scott responded faintly as he glanced into the cell at the immobile child on the floor. "Who're you?" he asked the teenager.

"Anne," she replied, "I swear to God I never meant to do any of the shit I done, it was all the obedience serum--!"

"The what?" Wolverine paused, staring at the girl on the floor. "Hey, wait a minute, that's the preschooler that crackhead Teake unleashed on me! She nearly killed me!"

"You **_what_**!" Jean shouted.

"Keep your claws in this time, Wolverine." Scott took a step back and shot an optic blast at the controls on the wall next to the cell. The shield vanished and the teenager stepped out halfway. "Teake is gonna blow his top, we have to get outta here…"

"Teake doesn't have no more top to blow, kid," Wolverine said vaguely, still staring at the figure on the cell floor. "But I agree with the second idea."

Peter was already striding forward into the cell, where he knelt over the girl and scooped her up. The child's head rolled limply backward and her right arm flopped lifelessly in the air.

Peter turned abruptly and declared, "Let's go."


End file.
